Happy Christmas, Teddy
by Beeezie
Summary: The way the genuine, open smile on Victoire's grandmother slid into a polite one when Victoire kissed him with a little more ardor than was strictly necessary under the mistletoe had been enough to make him avoid the mistletoe for the rest of the evening.


There was no doubt about it. Spending Christmas with the Potters and the Weasleys had gotten a little more awkward this year, and Teddy had no illusions about the cause.

Nobody _said_ anything, of course, but the way the genuine, open smile on Victoire's grandmother slid into a polite one when Victoire kissed him with a little more ardor than was strictly necessary under the mistletoe had been enough to make him avoid the mistletoe for the rest of the evening.

It also hadn't helped that they'd arrived together. Victoire could be a bit like a force of nature, but it had still been a little jarring when she'd informed him after took her out for dinner and ice-skating the previous night that her parents weren't expecting her back. She hadn't gotten into any details, but when they'd gotten to her grandparents' that afternoon, Dominique - now in her fourth year, and starting to understand these things - had gleefully given him an account of how _that_ conversation had gone.

 _"Vic,"_ Dominique had said, in a very poor imitation of their father's voice, _"it's not that we don't like Teddy, it's just that we'd much rather you come home tonight. You're still in school."_

Then Dominique had managed a much more passable impression of her sister: _"And Dad,_ I'd _much rather stay with him and meet you at Gran's tomorrow. I'm of age. I don't understand why this is such a problem, you've never been bothered when I was out with Fred and Micah and Lexy."_

Which, as Teddy and Dominique had agreed after she'd stopped mimicking her family, was so entirely beside the point that Victoire probably won the argument out of sheer nerve. Spending the night with her cousin and their closest (and entirely platonic) friends was decidedly different from spending the night at her boyfriend's flat, but there it was.

Knowing his girlfriend, he didn't doubt that Dominique was repeating the conversation fairly faithfully, too.

He'd hoped that Albus, at least, would be at least vaguely in his corner - James was always going to be a lost cause, because no amount of brotherly love was ever going to dissuade James from partaking in melodrama - but Albus, fresh off his first four months at Hogwarts, kept breaking into giggles every time he caught Teddy's eye or saw Victoire run her fingers along his arm or kiss his cheek.

Which was distracting in its own right, especially after what she'd done before bed the night before.

After another round of giggles from Albus and sidelong looks from both Audrey and Ron, he grabbed his coat and traipsed outside to get a little fresh air. The light streaming through the windows of the Burrow illuminated the garden, but though the last vestiges of sunlight still lingered in the sky, it had gotten cold enough that the thin layer of snow crunched under his boots. He brushed the powdered snow covering the Weasleys' garden fence and boosed himself up to sit on it. It wavered a little, but he knew from years of experience that it was a lot sturdier than it looked.

The breeze on his face was refreshing; he liked his flat in London, but he missed fresh air, and the only place Gringotts had sent him in the past six weeks was Paris. Paris was all very well, but it didn't have fresh air. Not like this.

He heard footsteps behind him and glanced over his shoulder. When he realized that it was Victoire's father coming out to meet him, his heart dropped into his stomach.

 _This_ was the issue with having a girlfriend who was still in Hogwarts. He'd meant to wait for her to finish school, but she'd made it clear over the summer that she was quite done with his _patience,_ thank you _very_ much - and anyway, his best friend had ultimately succeeded in dramatically heightening his anxiety by pointing out that he'd been lucky Victoire hadn't gotten a boyfriend while he mooned over her in her sixth year, and that he was unlikely to have such good fortune a second year in a row.

He steeled himself for the uncomfortable conversation he knew was coming - and which he knew he deserved.

"Hi, Mr. Weasley."

It could sometimes be difficult to read Victoire's father's expressions; he'd been attacked by one of Voldemort's followers as a young man, and though he'd survived with his health intact, the encounter had left his face ravaged.

Teddy did not have that problem right now, though. He could read Bill Weasley's face just fine.

"Teddy, you've been calling me Bill since you were eight. You don't need to change the way you address me just because you've started dating my daughter."

"Oh. Er - sorry."

Bill leaned against the fence. Like Teddy, he gazed out at the meadow next to his parents' house and the rolling hills in the distance. The last vestiges of sunlight had not yet faded from the sky, but the stars had cut through the faint glow and were twinkling above them. After a few minutes, Bill broke the silence.

"Teddy, it's not that we don't like you. We do."

"I like you, too."

"And I'm seven years older than my wife. It's not the age difference."

This time, Teddy kept his mouth shut.

"But…" Victoire's father sighed. "You couldn't have waited until she was done with _school?"_

Teddy made a face. It was very difficult to defend yourself about something you weren't entirely comfortable with in the first place. "I meant to," he said after a moment. "It feels weird to be thinking about things like rent and bills when my girlfriend is thinking about tests and schoolwork."

"So what happened?"

Teddy brushed more of the snow off the fence. "She wasn't really having it." He chanced a glance up at Bill, who had raised his eyebrows. "Fine - and if she'd found somebody else, I'd have been really pissed off at myself for not saying something. It's just a year, and - and I really, really care about her."

After another sigh, her father straightened and clapped him on the shoulder. "I believe you. We _do_ like you, Teddy. I just wish you'd waited. And barring that," he said pointedly, "I wish you'd waited until she was finished with school to invite her to spend the night. I know that Victoire is growing up, but I'd have liked to stay in denial about it a little longer."

Teddy suddenly felt abnormally warm, despite the cool night air.

"Happy Christmas, Teddy."

Teddy waited until he heard the other man stomp the snow from his feet and close the door behind him to bury his head in his hands. Victoire was one of his favorite people in the world, and he absolutely adored her, but she could be a colossal pain in the arse, too.

Just as he was about to go in, he heard the front door creak open again. The footsteps that approached this time were softer, and after a moment, he felt his girlfriend's head on his arm. "Hey," he said, his voice just above a whisper.

"Hey. I saw my dad coming back from out here, and I wanted to make sure he hadn't hexed you. You're not hexed, are you?"

Teddy let out a loud snort. "No, Vic. I'm not hexed. No thanks to you - when we got here, Dominique told me about the conversation you had with them before I picked you up yesterday."

"Ah, well." She boosted herself onto the fence to sit next to him and wound her arm through his. Despite his misgivings and the uncomfortable conversation he'd just had with her father, he still let out a very contented sigh when she laid her head on his shoulder. "I'm not a child, and they need to stop pretending that I am. And anyway, it's good for them. My dad wouldn't be any more ready for me to be stay at your flat overnight if I waited until next summer."

Teddy had his doubts about that, but it didn't seem prudent to voice them just now.

"So I was thinking. Would you like to have me again tonight?"

He started so violently that he nearly fell off the fence. _"What?"_

She giggled. "Would you like to have me over tonight?"

"That is _not_ what you said."

"No, it's not. So?"

"We really shouldn't, Vic. You father literally _just_ talked to me about this." He glanced down at her, which was definitely a mistake; her red hair was practically glowing in the light cast out of the house, and she was sticking her lower lip out in a way that made him flash back to the previous night. He could feel his resolve weakening. "Damn it, Vic, _no._ Stop it. I have to deal with your father for years. I'd prefer to not have him glare at me through all of them. And besides, I have work tomorrow."

If she pushed it, he knew he would probably cave. He wasn't sure whether to be relieved or disappointed when she didn't. "Oh, fine, if you're going to be _sensible."_

He hated being sensible. "Do you have any plans for New Year's? I'm having a few friends over, if you and Fred wanted to join us."

Her smile almost - _almost_ made up for his inexplicable commitment to sensibility that he was already starting to regret.

Almost.


End file.
